


Is There Anything Worse Than A Cold On Christmas

by TheArtStudentYouHate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, First Christmas Together, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mycroft is a mother hen, Sick on Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 12:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16933467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtStudentYouHate/pseuds/TheArtStudentYouHate
Summary: It's their first Christmas together... but poor Greg is sick





	Is There Anything Worse Than A Cold On Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally for the Mystrade advent calendar that unfortunately didn't come to be, but since this is finished, I might as well post it. I, personally, have never celebrated Christmas, so I hope this rings at least a little true.

“Are you feeling any better today?” Mycroft Holmes asked, rolling over in his bed to face his partner.

“I still feel bloody miserable. My nose is plugged. My throat hurts. My eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of my skull from the pressure on my sinuses.” Greg Lestrade moaned loudly.

“My poor darling.” Mycroft cuddled closer, laying his head on Greg’s chest.

“Don’t get too close to me, you’ll get sick too.”

“Nonsense. I won’t let some silly illness prevent me from hugging you on christmas.”

“Ugh. Our first christmas together and I feel like you should just take me out to pasture and end my misery.”

“Please don’t worry yourself about it. I think a cozy christmas in bed sounds wonderful.” Mycroft sat up and smiled down at his miserable looking Greg.

“If I weren’t sick we’d probably still be spending christmas in bed but it’d be a lot more fun.”

Chuckling, Mycroft ran his hand over the flannel pyjamas he had insisted Greg wear to make sure he kept warm. Greg had tried to convince him that cotton pyjama bottoms would suffice.

“We always have next year… and plenty of time in between that. Now, I’m going to go get our breakfast and bring it up here and you relax, brush your teeth, and take. some. medicine.” He looked at Greg pointedly, as he knew Greg would try not to. “I’m all yours today. I insisted the country remain quiet this christmas,” Mycroft said, pressing a kiss to Greg’s forehead before climbing out of bed.

“What did you just tell the prime minister “Make sure not to disturb me. I’m spending christmas with my boyfriend?”” Greg joked.

“Of course not.” Mycroft looked affronted. “I said I’m spending christmas with my _partner_.” Greg laughed. “They owe me. I haven’t actually taken a christmas off since… well, it wasn’t a terribly festive holiday.”

The two shared a look, smiling gently at each other. Taking a moment to enjoy the fact that they were both here, together, even if this wasn’t the exact situation they were expecting.

“I’m going to use the facilities. I won’t be a moment.”

“Don’t be shocked if I’m dead by then.” Greg grinned, knowing that Mycroft was rolling his eyes, even if his back was turned.

“Drama queen.”

“Feel free to tell the P.M. that.” He chuckled as Mycroft threw a two fingered salute over his shoulder. He groaned as he fell back into the pillows.

 

***

 

“Here we are. A proper Christmas breakfast,” Mycroft said, balancing a tray as he re-entered the bedroom.

“Yes. Just like all of the proper christmas breakfasts I remember from my childhood.” Greg looked down at the toast with peanut butter and jam and coffee.

“Well, if I am remembering properly, and let’s face it, we both know I am, you were going on and on about how you were going to be up early christmas morning, putting together breakfast with “all the fixings” as you like to say. But obviously that didn’t come to pass, so you’re stuck with me and this slightly burnt toast. I tried to have Anthea send something… but she really can make the most vicious threats when she puts her mind to it.”

“Nevermind, love. I love toast and you used crunchy peanut butter, just like I like and raspberry jam. My favourite.” He puckered his lips comically. Mycroft snorted before leaning in to place a big, smacking kiss on his lips.

“I’d be quite remiss if I couldn’t remember how you like your toast, my darling. Now eat up. I think the jam should have Vitamin C. Oh!” He interrupted himself. “Have you had any medicine yet?”

Greg immediately began to pout. “Oh, please don’t make me take any yet. You know how sleepy it makes me and I don’t want to sleep through our entire first christmas together.” He ferociously tore into his toast.

“Sleep really is the best thing for you right now.” He frowned sympathetically at Greg’s puppy eyes. “Alright, you don’t have to have any yet, but you are going to rest today and you won’t feel guilty for it. I won’t allow you to.”

“You’re a tough negotiator, but you’re just so cute I can’t say no.”

“Yes. My adorableness has rather allowed me to build up my reputation as a master negotiator.” Mycroft smirked as he took a sip of his tea.

 

***

 

“Mycroft. I’m wearing socks, slippers, flannel pyjamas, your heaviest dressing gown as mine was “not sufficient protection against the breath of a butterfly”, you’ve got the furnace on, fire in the hearth, and a space heater not five feet away from me. If you put that blanket on me I shall die of a fever before noon. Now, can I just open my presents?” Greg huffed, pursing his lips at Mycroft as he sat huddled on the couch.

Slowly lowering the blanket he was holding, Mycroft jutted out his chin severely while raising his nose imperiously. “Fine. Get pneumonia. See what I care.”

“Drama queen.” Greg grabbed Mycroft’s hand before he could repeat his gesture from earlier that morning and pulled him down for a kiss. “I’ll let you open the first one.” The moment was rather ruined when Greg sneezed.

“Perhaps you should take some medicine. There’s some in the…”

“Open the bloody presents before I actually do perish, please, My. I promise I will take medicine and go comatose after this.”

“Yes, alright. Alright,” Mycroft said as he reached for the first present under the tree. He carefully unwrapped it while Greg teased him that he was never going to use the paper again so he should really just bloody rip it open. Reaching into the box, he pulled out a clear glass sphere.

“It’s to replace the one on your desk at work,” Greg supplied.

“You mean the one that was broken while you were very bravely saving me from choking?”

“Is that the story you told the cleaners?”

“Well I didn’t think they’d appreciate hearing about how you became quite… amourous at that particular lunch meeting.”

“ _I_ became amourous? That’s not how I remember it, Mr. Locks-the-door-as-soon-as-I-walk-in-and- "Anthea. No calls please.””

“Well, it’s lovely and a very thoughtful present. Thank you.” Mycroft was going to ignore the heat he could feel burning his cheeks. He cleared his throat before saying “your turn now, I believe, love,” and taking a sip of his tea.

“Could you hand me mine?” Greg asked as he wiped at his nose with a tissue. Stuffing the tissue into his pocket, he tore into the neatly wrapped paper with abandon. “A door stopper?”

“Yes. To use for very important meetings at work that shouldn’t be disturbed and before you ask, yes. I did send a lovely care package to Inspector Donovan to apologise for her having to witness the result of  _you_ getting quite… I believe “handsy” is the word one would use to describe it.”

It was Greg’s turn to blush. “Thank you. I’m sure we’ll all appreciate it.”

 

***

 

The rest of the morning carried out in much the same way. They had each gotten each other a few smaller gifts. Neither of them needing a grand, sweeping gesture. Mycroft appreciated the rather handsome stationary set Greg had bought him. Greg very happily wrapped his new Arsenal scarf around his neck. It took a bit of convincing, but Mycroft had finally gotten Greg to take some medicine and made sure he was tucked up back in bed, sleeping, as Greg always was quite susceptible to the drowsy side effects of medicine.

After his long nap, the two of them enjoyed a good chinese takeout and Greg pretended to convince Mycroft to let him watch the Doctor Who special. Afterwards, he took a bath as Mycroft changed the sheets. Both warm in snuggly pyjamas, they cuddled in bed just about falling asleep.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Mycroft said into his chest.

“Much better. I’ll admit that you were right and that I did need to rest.” Greg rubbed Mycroft’s back.

“Well I won’t be petty and say “I told you so.” I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”

“Mm. Me too. I was starting to worry I’d be sick for new year’s.”

“Hm, yes. That would’ve been dreadful,” Mycroft said, curling tighter into Greg.

The moment was rather ruined when Mycroft sneezed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you for some reason should want to find me, you can at theartstudentyouhate on tumblr.


End file.
